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4
Beauty Secrets of Beautiful Women
It Isn't Only Skin Deep, Says Maude Know!ton
By LILIAN LAUFERTY.
JTY is not just skin deep
-it goes as deep as muscles
and blood and brains." said
Maude Knowlton, with the combina
tion of buoyancy and conviction that
makes a background of emphasis for
her every word. "That is not saying
that I think beauty is health, for fea
tures and figure and expression all
have their part in making beauty;
and I never forget that it goes right
through the outer shell to the bone!”
In a cozy little Hat out in the
Entities I visited the clever girl who,
under Henry B. Harris’ management
has scored several distinct hits, one
of the best remembered of which is
her marvelous portrayal of Simpson,
the real chorus lady in "The Chorus
Lady."
"A girl can’t very well choose her
birthplace,” went on the girl whose
clever gift of mental twist and verbal
k.nk throws added glamour of inter- j
est over big brown eyes, wavy black
hair and a complexion that when it is
i ot covered with healthy summer-
sun-and-ocean burn 1b first cousin to
the cream of Miss Knowlton’s own
Irish meadow lands.
"No, a girl can’t choose her own
native heath, but if she could, a good
starting place would be California
My! the air out there is made of com
ponent parts of vim, vigor and vital
ity—and with a little heredity to
back up the H20 combination a start
like that gives a girl a tendency to a
f-an<\ healthy viewpoint, and that
kindly attitude toward life that irra
diates even a homely face.
Not Posing.
"Of course, I am not posing as a
beauty expert,” said modest Miss
Maude, "but surely we agree that an
actually homely face may have a
charm of spirit and intelligence, a
magnetic giving out of self to the
world (that plays give and take all
the time, you know) that a mere
beauty shell which thrills you for fif
teen minutes could not exert after the
first quarter was past. Vim, vigor, vi
tality, a tolerant spirit toward the
world and its inhabitants, and buoy
ancy to carry you over the jolting
rough places, will surely bring out all
your good points better than a diet
list and a course of facial massage.
"Take buoyancy—It will keep you
from getting the wrinkles and lines
and spiritless eyes that are foes to
beauty; it will put spring into your
step. And now I have reached a sid
ing, for I just have to stop and talk
about walking and carriage. Miss
Beauty Seeker, hearken! You must
walk along on the balls of your feet
with buoyant spring instead of lag
gard slouch if you want to be truly
attractive. Walk as if you could con- ►
quer worlds—and you will conquer
hearts.
Swimming Good.
"Swimming helps a lot in the pur- !
suit of proper land movement, for it
brings a graceful fluidity of mofcon—
no, I don’t mean a fish-walk, but just
a flowing, graceful movement in
walking that is sure to please every
one who sees, and that is sure to make
you look fashionably tall and svelte.
"Oh, if you just hold yourself firm-
* ly erect on the balls of your feet
and carry head and chest high in
stead of sloppily caved in. you will
look twice as attractive, Miss Beauty
Seeker—trust me for that!
“Vim to keep you up above the
dead level of mediocrity; vigor to
carry you on to ambition and achieve
ment. vitality that will make you
ready to meet every occasion; buoy
ancy—of which I have sung at length
—and now a tolerant spirit, of which
1 can not sing at enough length.
You know the woman who is al
ways pecking and perking and dig
ging at life, who criticises all the
things that fall outside her own in
terests and inclinations. Her expres
sion and attitude can ruin even a
collection of perfect features and col
oring.''
"The woman who never would do
BEHIND CLOSED DOORS
One of the Greatest Mystery Stones Ever Written
Miss Maude Knowlton.
the things New York does, yet who
likes to see New York doing them—
if it enjoys them." I mused.
“Ex-actly. I’ll use that when I in
terview you." laughed merry Miss
Maude. “ ‘Live and let live’ is a good
motto for living and having the im
press of living mark your face in
j lines of sweetness.
"Now for a background to the vim.
vigor and vitality lady the simplest
clothes she dares wear, so she shall
not be a mere clothes-horse, but a
young - as - possible - attractive girl,
whose own sweet nature and expres
sion and well-carried figure are more
important than the mere garments
in which she is swathed. And there’s
my ideal of beauty,” concluded Miss
Knowlton.
And a very ideal Ideal I call it—
don’t you?
Where There’s a Will
WOMAN SICK
FOURTEEN YEARS
Restored to Health by
Lydia E. Pinkham’s
Vegetable Compound.
Elkhart, Ind.:— 44 1 suffered for
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I had such awful
faring down feel
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In spirits and be-
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dull, heavy
yes. 1 had six
doctors rroin wnom I received only
temjiorary relief. I decided to give
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remedies for four months and can
not express my thanks for what they
hflv<» done for me.
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455 James Street, Elkhart, Indiana.
Lydia E. I’inkham’s Vegetable
Compound, made from native roots
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and thousands of voluntary testi
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If you have the slightest doubt
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Your letter will be opened, read and j
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strict eviifiovuu. *
M ME. HOSE BRASSY opened her
autograph album, a masterpiece
of morocco and soild gold, and
showed its contents to her friend, Mile.
Lili Blanc. The book was fu’l of
sketches, drawings and poems by fa
mous men and women, some merry,
others grave, but nearly all containing
a compliment to the beautiful young
matron.
"You have certainly added some very
interesting autographs to your collec
tion since 1 saw it last. But do you
know what you ought to have? Lucien
Fond’s autograph."
“Don't you think I know' that,” said
Mme. Brassy, rather annoyed. "But it
is awful difficult to get hold of just as
the man himself. M. Brassy has sev
eral times invited him to our dinners,
but he has always been engaged.”
"Of course he is the fashionable poet
of the moment,” said Lili, "and ever
since I have come home from abroad I
have heard of nobody else. The great
and only Lucien Fond, whose poems are
sung everywhere, from Palais Ely sees
to Montmartre. And that is why you
simply must have his autograph in your
collection, Hose."
"It is easy enough to say that, Lili."
"I know it is difficult and now more
than ever, for Aunt Charlotte told me
yesterday that Lucien Fond goes to Ver
sailles every day and spends the whole
day with a sick sister. But I must go
now, dear. Good-bye. I am coming to
tennis on Friday.”
When Mme. Brassy was alone she
threw herself into a chair and began
to think. For a long while she sat in
silence, pondering, then she jumped up
and said: "1 know how it is going to be
done."
The next day Lucien Fond drove to
the railway station in his car.
He Is Annoyed.
"Call for me her to-night at 10,” he
said to his chauffeur.
Then he went into the waiting room,
where a large portrait of himself made
him pull his hat down over his eyes.
His popularity annoyed him. He would
have given anything to be an unknown
traveler who was not made the target
of scores of amateur photographers as
soon as he left his house.
The train arrived. Fond entered a
first-class compartment and was about
to close the door behind him when he
felt somebody pulling the door from
the outside. He growled something be
tween his teeth intended to sound like
an apology and retired into the farthest
corner and began to look at the land
scape, dreading every moment that the
young lady who had entered should be
gin to talk to him. No doubt she was
going to pay him one of the compli
ments which were on everybody's lips
and which he hated.
Of course, she was staring at him
now. He could just feel it with his
nerves without looking up.
But he was evidently mistaken. The
young lady did not say a single word.
The poet was bored and the sun an
noyed him. He rolled down the shade
and cast a stolen glance at his com
panion.
She was exceedingly pretty. Now
she took off her veil and hat and ar
ranged her fluffy golden hair. Then
she rested her head in her hands and
looked as if her thoughts were far away
Fond, who was a great smoker and
who was dying for a cigarette, took
out his case.
"May I smoke, mademoiselle?” he
asked politely.
She nodded her head and smiled.
The poet was surprised. After the
way she had looked at him he had
expected a volume of words, a repeti
tion of the compliments he was used to
hear everywhere and which he hated.
But she said nothing—not a single word.
Fond was surprised and just a little bit
disappointed.
Her Scheme.
While he was smoking he studied
his companion’s beautiful profile and
slender throat. Suddenly she stood up
and tried In vain to open the window.
Fond rushed to her side and opened it
for her. She thanked him with a
graceful nod.
"At last I have met a woman who does
not talk too much,’’ he thought. "Per
haps she does not know me—and still
the way she looked at me.”
And Lucien Fond, who hated stran
gers to address him, now actually
wished she would say something.
He threw away his cigarette.
*;i am sure the smoke annoys you,
mademoiselle," he said.
The young lady merely smiled. DIG
she mean yes or no?
More and more puzzled by her smile
and her silence the poet said:
"Don’t you feel a draught? Don’t you
want me to close the window on my
side?”
The young lady produced a notebook,
wrote something and handed it to the
astonished poet.
"I am deaf," he read.
Deaf, that beautiful young girl—for
of course she could not be married. The
poet wa3 deeply touched and wrote in
the book:
"Please accept my sincerest sympa
thy. LUCIEN FOND.”
The poor young girl took her note
book, looked at it, smiled and put it
into her bag.
• • •
Three days later Mme Brassy was
having a tennis party. Lili played bad
ly and Rose scolded her.
“You must try to play better. Lili.”
Her Triumph.
"Where there is a will there is a way,
you know.”
“Not always Rose—remember Lucien
Fond’s autograph.”
"Oh, I have that.”
Rose threw down her racquet, ran up
to the house and returned proudly with
her album open. A new page had been
pasted in, and on this was written:
"Please accept my sincerest sympa
thy. LUCIEN FOND.”
"But how in the world did you get
it so quicKly, Rose, and why does he
write ‘sincerest sympathy’?”
Mme. Rose blushed a little and re
plied:
"That is my secret."
A Tie.
"I took Gladys to the party last
night. On the way home I proposed,
and she accepted me.”
"That’s winning in a walk, Isn’t
it?”
"Yes. but it was a neck and neck
finish.”
By ANNA KATHARINE GREEN.
(Copyright, 1913, hy Anna Katharine
Green.)
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
"Now, when did she fly?" the detec
tive pursued. "Shortly after I saw her
last. And how? On foot and quietly.
The hall boy saw her go out, and he
says she had her little bag on her-arm
and looked decent and composed; not
like a woman In a delirium, nor even
like one who meditates any dreadful
crime. Birt then a boy's observation
does not go for much, and we will let it
pass. What we will remember, though,
is this, that she had a veil on which
covered her face, and this veil was
brown, or, at least, of a very dark color.
"Two persons have told me so: the
boy, whose word goes for little, and the
chambermaid, who, though she did not
see her go out, had had ample oppor
tunity for observing her veil earlier
in the afternoon, and whose word on
such a subject does go for something.
But, and mark the fact well, for it
seems to me important, the veil that
was clinging to her dress when she was
brought into Mrs. Olney’s parlor was
gray and decidedly light; not the same
one at all. according to description,
which she wore when she went out of
the hotel. What is the conclusion?
That she stopped somewhere. Where?
Another thing to find out. And now,
about the poison. I went through
Twenty-second street very soon after
leaving Mrs. Olney’s last night, and in
front of one of the houses between Fifth
and Sixth avenues I found a broken
phial reeking with the smell of bitter
almonds. So that part of his story is
true. I have brought the bits of broken
glass. Here they are.’’
The Coroner looked at them curiously,
smelled them and glanced up at Mr.
Gryce.
"Well!" he suggested, in an inquiring
tone. He felt that the detective’s silence
meant something.
"Don’t you notice anything peculiar
about these pieces?”
"No; to be fronk, I don't."
"Poison that is bought at a drug
store usually has a label on the bottle.”
“True.”
“And this phial once had a label on
It."
"I see.”
"But It has been washed off; or rather
rubbed off by a moistened hand. There
are bits of it still remaining.”
"I perceive them.”
"What inference can we draw? Thai
caution has been used. Now caution
is not an atribute of the suicide, wheth
er that suicide was an intentional one
or the result of a mistake.”
"Humph!”
"And then there is another thing
that puzzles me. Dr. Moles worth de
clares he found her sitting on the
steps. I looked at those steps. There
was a light snow lying on them and this
snow lay white and undisturbed, as it
would not have done if a woman had
been sitting there. But then some lit
tle time had elapsed since he removed
her from the spot, and enough fresh
snow may have fallen to cover up the
traces which her skirts must have left
behind her."
"Very possible.”
"Only those skirts were not damp
about the edges, as they must have been
If she had been sitting on a stoop un
der these circumstances. And this to
my mind is good evidence that she did
not sit there. I would sooner believe
she had been carried down the stoop
and placed in the phaeton without put
ting her foot to the ground. Only It
happens to be GeneraT ■ 's house
and the thing is impossible.”
"But how could you know about her
skirts? You did not go near her."
"But Harrison did, the man you your
self sent there to investigate.”
"And you have seen him since?"
“Five minutes after you did. sir.”
The coroner laughed. He did not un
derstand such zeal.
‘I knew you would send for me,” re
sumed Mr. Gryce, “and I want to have
something to talk about."
"I see,” said the Coroner, "well, go
on.”
“I am almost at the end of my rope,
on iy—did y 0U wonder what had become
cf Miss Farley’s bag?"
"I did not know she had any."
The Missing Bag.
"The people at the hotel say she had,
and here is the ocular proof of it." And
Mr. Gryce produced from under his coat
a small but neat handbag of black
leather, having on one side two orna
mental steel letters, one of which was
"M.” and the other "F.” "The initials
of her name, you perceive."
The Coroner nodded.
"You wonder where I got this bag.
Why, in the most natural place In the
world; it was in the phaeton.’
"Ah, in the phaeton.”
"When I went out of the house last
night I found that vehicle standing
where it had been left, in front of the
steps; and as according to the doctor’s
story, it had been the real scene of
death, I naturally thought you would
wish to have a look at it. I accordingly
took possession of it and not seeing
what else I could do with it at that
time of night, drove it into a stable
nearby. I expected every moment to be
stopped by somebody and so forced to
reveal my true character; but circum
stances favored me and l got off with
my prize unmolested. You will find it in
charge of an officer at No 66 West
street.”
A Misfit.
“Wealth has Its penalties,” said the
! ready-made philosopher.
''Yes,” replied Mr. Cumrox. "I'd
! rather be back at the dear old factory
than learning to pronounce the names
I of the old masters in my picture gal-
j iery.”
How Wonderful!
j The dumb man saw a wheel and
spoke.
The deaf man saw a flock and herd.
The blind man bought a plane and
1 saw.
see you understand me.” He then ad
mitted apologetically, " ’Twas dark and
I did not find much. Htill, I found some
thing; the l*ag, for instance.”
The Coroner looked at him with a
doubtful air. Did hq suspect for the
first time that the detective was con
cealing something from him? If so, he
said nothing, and Mr. Gryce went on
blandly.
"This bag may have stories to tell.
Suppose you open it, sir.”
The Coroner nodded and did so. A
number of toilet articles came to light
anti some linen. All was fresh and neat
"Nothing that is likely to help up,"
asserted the Coroner. ”Ne vestiges of
poison, no letters, not even a scrap of
writing of any kind.”
Mr. Gryce did not commit himself.
"1 would like to take an inventory of
the articles,” said he.
The Coroner allowed him to do so and
then inquired:
"What about the witnesses? Have
you seen the clerks at the drug store?"
“Yes, they have nothing to add to his
story. He stopped there, came in as he
said, told his fears and asked for as
sistance. One of them. Herbert Black
by name, at once responded, but before j
he could reach the door the doctor came |
rushing back and crying out: ‘It is too
late; she is dead, led the way to. the
phaeton, where they saw the poor girl
tumbled in a heap, white and lifeless.
They were young men and did not know
enough to take her by the hand and
see if she were yet cold. They took him
doctor's word for granted, knowing him
so well, and feeling a natural indisposi
tion to interfere in a matter at once so
horrible and so delicate, only asked what
they should do to help him. ‘I am going
to take her straight home,’ he told
them, and requested one of them to tele
phone to you and the other to run along
at his side as far as the house. This
latter duty fell to Mr. Black, and it was
he who helped the doctor carry the poor
girl in. That is all. I worked a half
hour, but could get no more out of
him."
Nine Hours to Work.
"And the clergyman?"
"Has nothing to impart.’’
"And the driver? You surely have
seen the driver, he whom he sent out
of the way with a prescription to some
patient or other?’’
Mr. Gryce’s brows knii.
"I have had but nine hours to work
in,” he said, "and one of them ^as
thrown away on that boy. I set a
watch for him in three places and sue
ceeded in getting the first word with
him. But he had only one story to tell
and told it doggedly. It was in strict
accordance with that of Dr. Moles-
worth. He had been ordered to come
to the C Hotel at a quarter past 8
to take Mr. Pease home after the ex
pected ceremony. He had gone thete
on foot. Dr. Molesworth himself hav
ing driven Mr. Pease to the hotel, and,
finding the phaeton at the door, had
waited beside it for the clergyman to
come out. But before this could happen
the doctor reappeared, and declaring
that matters had not gone as he wished,
took his place in the phaeton and beck
oned him in beside him, after which
they rode about the streets until the
doctor suddenly stopped the horse some
where near Union Square and, com
manding him to get out, gave him a bit
of paper, which he told him to take as
quickly as he could to Mr. Monroe, in
Seventy-third street. He obeyed him
and had only just come back. This is
what the boy said and all he could say,
but I know as well as I know anything
that he did not tell me the truth, for
when 1 asked him what cars he took he
stared at me for a moment helplessly,
and then said, ‘The Madison avenue
cars,’ which story he stuck to, but as
one who is very much frightened sticks
to a statement he knows is false but.
dares not abandon.”
“I will make him tell the truth," as
serted the Coroner.
“It is to be hoped so. He is not dull,
but he is mighty obstinate, and is to
all appearance very much afraid of his
master.”
"1 know the species. I can manage
him.”
Mr. Gryce looked doubtful, but did not
pursue the subject. On the contrary,
he remarked:
"I forgot to give you another point
I have made. Molesworth says that
after leaving the hotel he rode through
the streets searching for his missing
bride. Now, a person who searches goes
slowly, and when he finds what he
seeks in the condition in which Miss
Farley was found, he still goes slowly.
But Dr. Molesworth’s horse had been
driven far and fast, as the state he was
In when I drove him into the stable
amply showed.”
"A point? I should think so.”
"And that is not all. Seeing that
the horse went a trifle lame, I examined
his feet, and there, wedged between
the hoof and the shoe of his right
forefoot I found a bit of gravel which
I dare wager never came from the
streets about Madison Square As the
horse was not lame enough for it to
have been there long. I drew the In
ference that Miss Farley was searched
for In other regions than those hi»
story would lead you to surmise.”
To Be Continued Monday,
"That is all right, but what about
the look you took? You never left that
pha'ton for me to examine first.”
Mr. Gryce smiled grimly at the plain
gold stud he wore as a cuff button. “I
Defeating Justice
“T7& 72)-
*
w
■m*'
t
—
Policeman—A]} right, young feller, I’ll pinch you when you come out.
Bather—But I’m not coming out. Ha! ha! You see, I’m committing suicide.
Advice to the Lovelorn ^BEATRicEFAmFAxr
"NO” TO ALL.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
The other night I attended a
mask ball. Through the masking
I became acquainted with a
young man. Before leaving he
asked me for my address, and if
he might call.
I am 17. Should I have given
him my address? Should I con
tinue the acquaintance without a
conventional introduction if he
writes, as I know none of his
friends? The young man asked
me to call him up on the phone.
Can I do this? Would it be proper
to have him call? Should he ask
me to go out with him (for he
said something to that effect)?
Could I do so without a chap
erone? ROBERTA.
Let the matter end right now. You
were foolish to give him your ad
dress, but it will be nothing more
than passing folly if you make no
effort to see him again.
ACCEPT HER STATEMENT.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
Until recently one of the hoys
in our crowd kept company with
a rather pretty girl and through
some disagreement discontinued
his attentions. All along I have
been rather sweet on this same
girl and since their disagree
ment I have been to see her very
often.
What I can not understand, is
KODAKS
‘Th* Beit FlnliMni and lular*-
Sng Thut Can Bi Produmd ”
Eastman Film* ana wra
pt ste itnck amatetir supplies,
ice for out-of-town cuatomnr*.
"Ssnd for Catalog and Prlca Lie*.
A. K. HAWKES CO. ■gjgSS
14 Whltahali St., Atlanta. Ga.
this: It is only two or three
months since I have been calling
and she says she has learned to
love me dearly. This other boy
says she has told him that very
often, too. Do you really think
she could have learned to love me
in ho short a time?
She has given proof in one way,
however. She never went to
church before, but now she goes
every Sunday night with me.
The boys kid me terribly and I
want to hear from some one who
is entirely impartial.
WILLIAM.
She may love you. One can not
measure love by time, and you say
she has given proof. Accept her state
ments without question and enjoy the
present, but make no arrangements
for marriage until you are sure that
you are more than ‘‘rather sweet” on
her.
breezes at
K
Arkansas
very pleasure
I832. Donald Fraser School for Boys. 1913
Decatur, Ga.
Thoroughly prepare, for oollego. Exp»rien»d faculty of mal, teach»rs.
Gymnasium. Atnletio sport,. Limited number. Catalogue upon request.
PAUL «J. £<ING, Principal.
Phone Decatur 253.
Every Woman
Is interested and should
know about the wonderful
Marvel J?" 8 "* *»•**
Douche
Ask rotirdmguriitfor
It. If he cannot sup
ply the MARVEL,
accept no other, but
| send stamp for book.
, M«r«ci *4 E. 23* St-. M.T.
of out o’doors inviting. The
golf and tennis you play; the
rides and drives you take on the
picturesque mountain roads; the
boating and fishing you do on
the Ouchita river nearby—what
ever form of out-door recre
ation you choose, the cool hill
breezes co-operate to make it
enjoyable.
Get full value. Everything that
makes a vacation worth-while
is yours at Hot Springs.
Spend your vacation at this pleas
ure place where you can enjoy the
coolness and pleasures of moun-
CITY TICKET OFFICE HHHH
EITHER PHONE
THE ATTRACTIVE WAY NORTH & WEST
tain heights and
also have these
health-restoring
waters to build
you up.
You would be
surprised what
little is asked for
good board and how low the
bath prices are fixed by Uncle
Sam.
The Rock Island is the direct
line to Hot Springs from Mem
phis. Four modernly equipped
trains daily, leaving Memphis
7:00 a. m. 9:45 a. m. 11:00 a. m.
and 12:01 midnight. Trains
from the southeast make direct
connection in Memphis with
these Rock Island trains to the
Hot Springs, Arkansas. Find
out about the many attractions
of this health and pleasure place.
Write for booklet and for details
VI
about schedule
and fare from
your hometown.
-yi:
H. H. HUNT.
Di*t. PatMnrer Act.
18 North Pryor St..
AtltaU, Ga.